You twiddle with the badges on your security uniform. You're glad you're almost done with this shift, and it's gotten more asinine as the seconds tick by.
A posse of people approach the security checkpoint, and you glare at the intruders. There's a man in a denim shirt, flanked by what look like bodyguards. He's unconventionally attractive, and you can't help but fondle the handcuffs at the back of your belt.
You step forward and nudge the other security agent out of the way.
Cheekbones approaches you, and places his belongings on the scanner belt.
You brandish your own metal detector at him. "Lift your arms, sir," and he does so, raising them above his head and clasping his hands.
You swallow, and you swear he winks at you. You step closer and run the detector, up, down, between, over… under…. and between again. You swear you can feel the pheromones coming out of him.
An alarm goes off. You turn to the x-ray conveyor and grab his bag on the other side. "We're going to have to look through your bag, sir. Would you like to do it here or…" you swallow, "in private?"
He bites his lip and leans in towards you. "In private."
Your coworker is bored and oblivious to the situation, so you motion for him to come with you. His gang gets left behind, playing with their iPhones.
You enter a room, and you close the door behind you. He looks at you pointedly. "Was there really anything in my bag?"
You smirk. Your hands go to the back of your belt. "Raise. Your. Arms."
He hesitates, and you step towards him. You back him up against the wall. "Now."
He complies, and you have handcuffs on him in two shakes of a lamb's tail.
"I've got a flight, you know…" he whispers to you, and you reach a hand around to pull his head of hair back. Your teeth go to his jawline, and you notice his arms are still raised above him.
Yet, just as that realization dawns on you, he's circled his arms around your waist, still handcuffed, spun you around, and pushed you up against the wall.
You let out a small gasp at the sudden turn of events. His lips are ghosting over your neck, you lean your head back in a rather subconscious way, and lift your arms to his shoulder blades, clawing down in a fluid motion.
"Fucking hell," he whispers. "I said, I've got a flight to catch…"
He nips at your collarbone with his teeth. Your mouth gapes open, and your eyes roll back as you feel his fingers tracing patterns on your back.
…
There's a loud banging. Fuck. Your eyes shoot open from your daydream and you lean backwards in your chair. You grab your coffee and pastry and throw your feet up onto your desk. Nobody has to know you've been napping.
One of your female colleagues throws open the door.
"Sir, there's been a break-in."
You mentally groan, but quip back, "Not my division," you respond.
She gives you a look, "You'll want it."